Little Things
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Loosely related short fics concerning the RanxKen pairing.
1. Noise

**Title:** Little Things I- Noise  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Rating:** PG-13 (some yaoi themes. Like you expected anything else)  
**Feedback: **(yes!)  
**Pairing: **RanxKen.  
**Summary: **Ken makes too much noise.  
**Word Count:** 2,403  
**Time: **So wasn't paying attention...  
**A/N:** So, I have no ideas for anything but mindless fluff right now I suppose. I tried angst but I suck big time at it (surprise, surprise), and I just don't feel funny enough to do humor for WK again, ever. --;; So yeah. Romantic fluff. Gratuitous cuddle warning. We'll see how this works out, I guess. crosses fingers Apologies if I trigger any gag reflexes or if the slew of pink, fluffy bunnies being unleashed as I write this asphyxiates anyone. And yes, prepare yourself for major OOCness. Because it's what I do. Totally stole this concept from a line in "Scrubs" of all shows, but my muse wouldn't let it _not_ be written. My muse is an evil, evil bastard.  
**Dedication:** To Pris, because she'll probably be the first victim to have to endure this piece on its maiden run. I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine… if they were, Ran and Ken would have had their happy ending by now, goddammit!  
**Distribution: **Just lemme know.

* * *

**One: Noise**

Ken snored in his sleep. Constantly. It wasn't loud per se, just deep and rumbling, a kind of gruff sawing noise that went in through his mouth and out through his nose. On his back, on his side, on his stomach, no matter the position he'd fallen asleep in, Ken could, without fail, snore in it. Ran had discovered this upon the first few weeks he'd spent sharing a bed with the younger man, when he'd finally shoved all reason in a closet and decided that with all the time they spent in each other's beds, they might as well just share a room officially and leave it at that. The first night he'd been privy to the snoring, the redhead had awakened at the sudden sound in his ear by jerking upwards violently, his assassin's instincts reacting instantaneously to the noise as the arrival of a possible threat.

Needless to say, his quick reflexes resulted in accidentally(forcibly) dislodging (ejecting) Ken's chin from its place against his shoulder, which in turn, sent the other assassin flying off of the bed, comforter and all.

Ken had given an indignant yelp and tumbled off the mattress in a naked flurry, bruising his shoulder on the corner of the nightstand before hitting his ass on ground with a rather solid thump.

Yohji had banged on the wall at the sudden noise; the playboy's muffled shouts of "Quieter sex goddammit!" ringing in both of their rather startled ears.

Ran had felt incurably guilty for throwing Ken off that first night, and hadn't quite known how to react as he'd blinked incredulously down at his partner, who was sitting on the floor, rubbing his shoulder and asking what the hell was wrong.

Trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, Ran stopped blinking and allowed his eyes to narrow into his characteristic glare once his thoughts had ordered themselves into something coherent. That being, that it wasn't his fault. Necessarily. Well, it wasn't _entirely _his fault. "You were snoring," he muttered accusatorily.

Ken rotated his shoulder until it popped satisfactorily several times. Assured that he wasn't as broken as he felt save for his pride, he got up and plopped back onto his side of the bed, pulling up the comforter with him. "So you decided to throw me across the room as punishment?" he retorted upon hearing Ran's accusation.

Ran's glare became more indignant than the intimidating he had been going for at the brunette's sarcasm. "I didn't throw you _that_ far."

Ken laughed as he read the subtle difference between the redhead's expressions and the _pout_ (oh it was there) in the other man's voice. "Still…"

"Sorry," Ran murmured reluctantly, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "It just surprised me."

"Hair trigger," Ken snickered.

Ran glared. "Shut up."

They sat in silence for a while, Ran feeling a bit awkward and not quite knowing what was supposed to come next. He'd never actually had to deal with something along these lines before, what with the sneaking to and from each other's beds they'd done in the first few weeks of a rather frustrating (and argument fraught) courtship. Regardless of his inexperience however, the taller assassin could now note with confidence, that throwing your partner from the bed in the middle of the night created a strange atmosphere. Especially when it was the first full night together. Hoping Ken would take the lead, he decided the best policy was to react rather than act and thus he remained immobile, waiting.

Ken sighed hopelessly at the other man for a moment before tiring of whatever weirdness had arose, and pushed Ran back down on his back to climb half atop him, decisively reclaiming his human pillow. "I snore sometimes," he admitted as they lay down again. "Sorry for not warning you?"

Ran scowled but its effect was dampened by his wiggling to get into a more comfortable position with Ken lying atop him. "It startled me," he admitted, wrapping an arm around the other man's shoulders as the awkward air slowly dissipated with renewed contact.

The brunette snickered against his skin. "The fearless assassin…"

"Shut up."

"I'm not going to have to worry about being tossed around every night, am I?"

Ran nudged Ken with the shoulder his cheek was pressed against. "Do you snore every night?" he asked dryly, hand absently stroking the curve of the younger assassin's neck.

Ken moved at his lover's remark, lifting his head slightly so that the tip of his nose brushed against the underside of Ran's jaw. "I don't know."

Ran grunted in response, eloquent as ever.

Ken smiled, and turned a bit wistful as pressed a kiss to the redhead's chin. "I used to snore, sometimes. Before Weiss," he admitted, slightly embarrassed. He nestled back down and Ran turned to face him, studying the far off expression that had settled across Ken's features from the corners of his eyes. "My mom said I would snore like a train whenever I was really comfortable."

"Oh." Ran processed that, eyes still trained intently on Ken's face, studying the nuances of movement, the little details about his partner's revelation that he knew would be the most vivid part of this memory when he looked back on it years from now.

Ken continued talking quietly, aware of Ran's silence but comfortable enough in it to know that it was due to the other man's absorption of as much detail as possible, as much sensory input as he could find. Ran always seemed to want to grasp as much as he could, to study and analyze and piece together things so that he could fully understand them and react accordingly in his strange but endearing manner. Too much illogical logic sometimes, but Ken loved him regardless. "She used to make fun of me because I was so carefree that I could sleep through anything short of an explosion. She said I was just like dad, always so content with life that if I wanted to sleep, I was going to and nothing was going to bother me. She said I slept like I owned the world," Ken chuckled, warm with memory.

Ran filed that away as well, noting the timbre of his lover's voice and the twinkling contentment he could see dancing in his eyes. Along with that, he acknowledged the strange feeling that had gathered in his stomach when he heard Ken tell him these precious private things, these small snippets of a perfect life, lifetimes past. He unconsciously pulled the other man closer and Ken readjusted, shifting so he was on his stomach, arms moving to wrap around the redhead's neck.

Sighing lazily, Ken pushed his forehead against the older man's chest, butting gently. "I guess I haven't slept like that in a long time, huh?" he mused, smiling a little into Ran's skin.

Ken's breath tickled ever so slightly, but not in an irritating way, so Ran let him stay as he was, not really wanting to move him anyway. "You didn't snore before," he mused, running a hand through the brunette's sleep-messy hair, letting his fingertips linger on Ken's scalp before descending to rest at the base of his neck.

The soccer player chuckled gently. "I didn't, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"You never held me afterwards, before."

Ran squirmed a bit uncomfortably at that, but said nothing. Ken butted his chest gently again, this time in reassurance. "I understand," the younger assassin murmured, content to let whatever issues the two of them had had in the past remain there so long as they were dealt with, over.

So long as _this_ was where they were now.

There was silence for a while after that, and Ken closed his eyes, relaxing into Ran's embrace as he tried to rediscover the blissfully content sleep he had been so rudely pulled from moments ago. But just as he felt his eyelids growing heavy, he felt Ran take a breath, deeper than one that would be required for sleep. The soccer player made a small, half-conscious noise in the back of his throat, questioning his partner.

"My mom… used to laugh at me because I was such a light sleeper," Ran started a bit stiffly, as if he were still searching for the words as he said them.

Ken was equal parts surprised and pleased when he heard his lover's words, stilted and reluctant as they were. But the athlete also sensed the older man's discomfort, and knew him well enough, loved him well enough, to know the significance behind the attempt itself. It was enough that Ran wanted. That simple fact alone was enough to bring Ken immeasurable joy. "Ran, you don't have to…"

"She said I always seemed like I was worried about the entire world," he continued, stubborn as ever and feeling some sort of need to tell Ken something about the person who he used to be. Not necessarily as an apology for who he was today, but not exactly not, either.

Warmed over again by Ran's refusal to stop, Ken let himself laugh a little at the older man's words, but in a warm sort of way that didn't make Ran feel embarrassed about what he was saying. Though it didn't stop Ran from pinching the athlete a bit after a moment, to quiet the last of his ongoing chuckles. "Sorry, it's just so you," Ken apologized, hefting himself up onto his elbows so he could look down at Ran's face as he spoke. "Go on."

Ran looked up into Ken's expectant eyes, luminescent and completely fixated on him and this story of a rather pointless snippet in his life which he didn't quite know why he was relating in the first place. The soccer player's undivided attention unnerved the redhead a bit more than he was already, and he tugged Ken back down against his chest when it became overwhelming, when it made that strange feeling that had been gathering in the older assassin's stomach twist just a little bit more. "Aya used to, too," he continued after they had both gotten comfortable again. "She was a lot like mother. They liked to tease me all the time for being so serious. I remember… Aya'd sneak into my room early in the morning when we were kids and jump onto the bed and make the loudest sound she could just to scare me."

Ken laughed again, nestled against Ran's warmth, imagining the two siblings during their childhood in his mind's eye as the redhead narrated, rumbling voice deep and soothing in his ears. "Sounds like her," he murmured, feeling his eyelids grow heavy again.

"Yeah," Ran breathed, a fond smile creeping onto the edges of his lips. "She was the only one who could ever scare me like that. Every Saturday morning our parents woke up to me shouting."

Ken pressed a gentle, sleepy kiss at the base of Ran's throat. "Mmm… sounds nice," he murmured, only half conscious.

Ran scowled a bit. "Boring you?" he quipped, though there was no edge to his voice.

Ken snuggled closer, pulling the comforter up around them both. "No, course not. I'm just… really comfortable."

"Go to sleep then, idiot."

"Not going to throw me again are you?" Ken teased, though he let his eyelids close.

"I'll just suffocate you with a pillow."

"Pfft. I love you too," Ken drawled, his final words as he drifted back to sleep.

Every night after that first night, when they'd fall asleep beside each other, Ken would snore. It wasn't unbearably loud so much as a low, grating rumble, the kind of snore that had a steady rhythm, that billowed in through the brunette's mouth and growled out through his nose. It was in Ran's ear every night without fail, after a long day of closing up shop, after a blood soaked mission, after a quiet dinner for two and a walk in the park, after a game of soccer, after a run in the rain, after hours of lovemaking or hours of arguing. Every night, no matter what, Ken would fall asleep with his head pillowed in the crook of Ran's neck, murmuring a half coherent goodnight before he closed his eyes and drifted off. Minutes later, Ran would hear that snore. The first few weeks were spent getting accustomed to it, learning to adjust and deal with it along with several other aspects of the brunette that drove the older man up the wall, but it was work Ran was happy to accommodate because he was beginning to pin down exactly what that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been plaguing him as of late was, and as such, was beginning to realize that maybe it wasn't so strange a feeling as it was a nice one.

So he tried to endure those things about Ken that made him a little bit insane, the snoring and the dirty clothes on the floor and the dog-eared books and the late night soccer games and the muddy cleats in the hall and the public displays of affection and the way he'd steal parts of dinner he liked off of Ran's plate in restaurants and how he'd plop down on the redhead's lap like he owned the place even when Ran was in the middle of doing something.

So Ran learned eventually, to deal with every one of those things about Ken that bothered him one by one, even that grating, rumbling, constant snore, the one that had startled him so badly the first full night they'd stayed together and that had kept him from sleep for the better part of a week afterwards as he'd tried to adjust to its presence just below his ear.

It wasn't easy exactly, as Ken's snores were undeniably, some of the most unattractive he could imagine in both quality and consistency. Some nights (though they were growing fewer and far between), he still awoke, startled at the strange noise and somehow, even stranger feeling of another human being so close beside him. But with time, discipline, and the eventual ability to acknowledge aloud that yes, this was part of the beauty of love, Ran learned how to accept that for the rest of his life, the nightly accompaniment to his slumber would be _that_ particular sound.

Eventually, he realized he couldn't sleep without it.

**END**


	2. Silence

**Title:** Little Things  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Feedback:**  
**Theme:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13 (mentions of yaoi)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen  
**Spoilers:** Nope  
**Word Count: **1,931  
**Time:** 2:34 (minor edits)  
**Summary:** The universe hangs in precious balance. Yohji listens.  
**Dedication:** HeatherR and Crimson1 over at because they constantly remind me why this is like, my OTP of all time.  
**A/N:** I kind of thought I'd never write more for this little arc that I had planned, but a string of good RanxKen fic reading sort of put me in the mood for them again, and so here I am. I'm out of practice, really, especially since all I've really been writing lately has been Bleach crack yaoi, but getting this out of my system was a must. Hopefully it makes sense because today I am sick and the queen of run on sentences (yes, both simultaneously!). As much as I love this pairing I usually don't write it because they're _so_ precious to me the mere thought of any miss-stepping on my part in the way they're portrayed is just _painful_ to think about because I love them that much. ;; It's sort of paradoxical, but rather than do them harm I think I'm just one of the types that would rather not write them at all. Usually I only write them when I've got a concrete, I know what I want to do idea for them, and this is actually the first time I've written them where I haven't had that. I'm a little apprehensive, but for some reason I just found myself randomly writing and Ran and Ken happened to be the two I ensnared in my spontaneous weekend fic writing this week.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

**Two: Silence**

When Ran and Ken fight, Yohji thinks it feels like the end of the world.

Not because of the explosions and flashes of light. Not because their home is left shaking from the stomping feet and slamming doors and rattling windows. Those are the sorts of things that Ran and Ken just come with, whether they're fighting or doing anything else.

They drive each other crazy and take the environment with them. They are two opposing forces of nature that are drawn together regardless of their varying dispositions and as a result, cause havoc in the world around them.

Their love, as apocalyptic as it is, is Yohji's sign that the universe is still whole. The fact that despite how different they are, despite the lives they have chosen, despite the crimes they commit, that the two of them can still love so purely tells Yohji that there is still hope to live in this world despite its chaotic, insecure nature.

Always, they are full of love and life, passion and anger, and thus the noise, the messes they cause are simply a reminder of what it is like to be alive.

But when they fight, Yohji has to pause his vicarious living-through them and hold his breath, because that carefully balanced cosmos they have created becomes tipped on the knife's edge at those moments, teetering precariously between Eden and Armageddon.

They are fighting again tonight, coming in late from their closing shift at the shop.

Ken is angry, indignant. He is loud about it, shouting at the top of his lungs and not caring that both Yohji and Omi can hear every word he is saying.

On the other side, Ran is quiet, but his silence in the face of Ken's tirades is of a dangerous sort, and Yohji can hear by the way the floorboards creak under Ran's weight that he is walking stiffly, just as angry as his younger lover. However, it is his way to be tightlipped about it, to glower and freeze the air around him with his seemingly cold indifference. The occasional chilly word comes from him, and after only minutes, Yohji can sense the numbness beginning to settle in as Ken's speech becomes more and more strained. The soccer player sounds tired after a little while, and eventually there is silence from both sides. Quieter footsteps then, and the blonde can hear Ken retreating to his room without another word or glance in Ran's direction. The sound of a door clicking shut signals the brunette's final departure.

Moments later Ran sighs, not that Yohji can hear it, but because he knows them both well enough to say without doubt that Ran sighs. And then the redhead will close his eyes and turn stubbornly on his heel before heading back to his room sullenly, convincing himself that it would be foolish to pursue any sort of reason with his hot-headed love.

The sound of Ran's door closing behind him is the last sound of the argument.

In the end, it is not the explosions or the flashes of light. It isn't the shaking floorboards or slamming doors or rattling windows that make Yohji feel like the world is ending.

When Ran and Ken fight, it is the silence that Yohji fears the most. It is the sudden quiet that makes him wonder if all the stars will start falling from the sky at any moment and smother them all.

It is always the same-- after the shouting drops off that ominous silence settles in the air around them all. It is a kind of eerily contemplative quiet that shrouds their entire living space, blocking out all signs of lovely, chaotic life. Yohji thinks that it is this kind of silence that is the most dangerous for assassins in particular because it is one where they can think and reflect and perhaps tip the precious balance that their sanity rests on in the wrong direction once and for all.

In the end, it's not the things that occur in a fit of anger that set Yohji on edge. Those are little things, things that tell him that everything is still okay because when you want to make noise, when you want to make a big deal out of the little things, then everything is okay. It means that you still care enough to make a fuss and thus, those are the things that tell the former detective that the universe is still chaotic, still whole.

It's the quiet that means something is wrong. Because for an assassin, it is in the noiseless prison of your own thoughts where you can lose everything, all of the big things that make the world go round. The solitude of your own guilty conscience is a constant strain that they as killers must battle with daily. It gives them a choice between trying to stay a part of a harmonious, noise-filled universe or of letting go, stepping outside of the world in order to lose the pain of guilt though at the same time, everything that makes you human. In the quiet, these choices become so much more pronounced.

Ran and Ken make each other so much more human than they might have otherwise been, and it is on nights like these when they fight that Yohji thinks the world is ending. The possibility of apocalypse draws dangerously near when they leave him stuck in that ominous quiet and hide behind their closed doors. All he can do is sit, tense and uncertain, waiting for either balance to be restored or for the world to crack into a thousand pieces and fall away forever.

He smokes cigarettes one after another as he waits, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, listening for any sort of motion, of sound, that will tell him the Earth hasn't stopped spinning.

He quietly prays for another day of life.

He has always been a romantic at heart after all, and the thought that those two can defeat the odds, can overcome their own pasts and look to a future that is while perhaps not bright with hope, but at least gives the possibility of it, makes him long, inexplicably, for the closest to a happy ending that sinners such as they might be allowed.

Unwittingly, he has given Ran and Ken the power to shape his dreams. But he is okay with that because he feels he is too old for his own dreams any more, and it is easier to center the universe on them, those with the potential for youthful regeneration, who can step out of the spiritual stagnation that assassins are faced with and create a new world for themselves.

Because if anyone can do it, they can. And he so wants them to, perhaps selfishly, because their successes will mean some sort of validation of all of their lives. Proof that there is some hope leftover under all of that blood.

Without knowing it, Yohji has given all of his dreams to them because he wants to believe that there is a future in which those that love can love and be loved in return despite their sins. Imbued with his support and all the possibility he can give them, Yohji Kudou watches over the younger two like a gardener who is waiting for the first sprouts to break through the earth they have been buried under- a sign of new hope. All of his positive dreams and desires have been put into Ran and Ken and the chaotic, life-filled love that they share.

Without knowing it, he has given them the power to destroy the universe.

Tonight they threaten the heavens once more. They are fighting again, and Yohji waits, tense on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes while his remaining hand braces the cigarette he isn't really concentrating on in his mouth.

He wonders if Ken is thinking that it isn't worth it any more, if the former soccer player is sitting on his bed staring out the window with those big sad eyes of his, secretly longing for the bed he has grown accustomed to sharing with Ran and at the same time, being angry with himself for wanting that. Yohji can see the younger boy in his mind's eye, pictures his anger as it slowly but surely melts into uncertainty, his insecurity warring with his remaining sense of pride. He undoubtedly feels Ran is wrong, but there is a strange dearth of self-confidence that constantly troubles the athlete ever since he discovered that his life's betrayal was at the hands of a former lover, and he is thus unable to completely trust his own judgment. He wonders if perhaps Ran was right all along, and his thoughts will undoubtedly spiral into questions of his own right to make demands of someone else, his right to believe in himself, his right to love, his deserving to be loved, and finally, the thought that plagues them all on quiet nights like this—whether or not they can ever be forgiven. He will think that Ran, intelligent, confident and beautiful, deserves someone equally as wonderful.

Ran's thoughts will take the opposite form, statement rather than inquiry. Yohji can imagine the redhead leaning against the door he has just shut behind him, eyes closed and frowning as he tells himself that he was right in the beginning, that as assassins, they can be nothing but. He will think that his hands are forever stained no matter how much he might try to ignore the fact. Having been unable to protect everything that was precious to him before, Ran's thoughts run through threads of fearful inadequacy. To him, his failures in the past mean that he does not deserve to love in the present, that he has no right to love, or to expect something of another human being when he has long since given up his humanity. He will think that Ken, lively, bright and passionate, deserves better than he can provide.

It is in the silence that they are tormented with these thoughts, forced into their own solitude and subsequently, full awareness of their pasts as well as a fearful longing for a future they aren't sure they deserve.

Ken will stare at his window, on the brink of deciding that he isn't worth any of this, right on the edge of remaining as just Ken or falling over the precipice, into the role of not Ken, but just a murderer.

Ran will rest his forehead against his door, hand still clutching the knob, and make himself choose between the consequences of his inadequacy once more, the possibility that life will rip away his most precious thing away again warring with the simple solution of not letting himself have anything important to rip away in the first place.

For the fate of the world, these two men have to make a decision.

And Yohji waits, smoking away in the dark of his room while the very cosmos are poised on the brink of complete annihilation.

Moments later, the silence is shattered when he hears the sound of two doors being opened.

Smiling to himself, the blonde puts out his cigarette and turns on his side, muttering about how dramatic they both are, threatening the future of the universe at a time when he needs his beauty rest.

Eventually, Yohji drifts off to dream in the comfort of sleep, glad that the world is whole again.

He lets himself look forward to morning, whatever it may bring.

**END **


	3. Amazing

**Title:** Little Things III- Amazing  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Feedback:**  
**Theme:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13 (mentions of yaoi)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen  
**Spoilers:** Nope  
**Word Count: **1,954  
**Time:** The better part of an hour…  
**Summary:** There are a million emotions associated with love.  
**Dedication:** kanglin, because yes, sharing Yaoi is 3. Among other things. XD  
**A/N:** This is me doing more weird narration choices because…okay, I don't really know. I wanted this to sound fluffier than it came out, but meh, I guess I can't be picky really because the entire time I was writing this I was telling myself I should be doing my Japanese homework instead. --;; Which I'm still not done with, btw. But yeah, I'm a bit surprised this came out as fast as it did considering I SHOULD SO BE DOING OTHER THINGS. cough Oh well. Too much stress is bad for the health anyway, if my daily headaches this past week have meant anything. ;; Anyway, this is a bit OOC, but the narration just sort of lent itself to the way it turned out and I was too lazy to do anything big edit-wise. Sorry!  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

**Three: Amazing**

You are constantly amazed by him, though you refuse to tell him directly because that would make his ego huge. It will become even bigger than it already is when you give him little concessions, like when you tell him that you think he is cute when flustered, or angry, or shy, or confused, or _him._

You think his ego doesn't really need to be any bigger.

So you don't tell him, though you suspect most everyone knows what you think anyway, if Yohji's amused looks and Omi's broad smiles mean anything.

He completely baffles you.

Mostly, it is his laughter that gets to you most, his sparkling eyes and bright smile and the way he can simply look at you and infuse you with a strange sort of joy, the kind you never thought you'd feel again because you were certain, absolutely certain, that you no longer had the ability left within you. Not after the charred ruins of your home or the lifeless, limp body of your precious sister.

You had been so sure that this kind of joy you're feeling now was no longer a part of the you who was left behind after that night.

Apparently, he had thought otherwise, because looking back, it seems he had always been laughing at you from day one, seems as if he had been poking you to laugh along with him the entire time.

You remember that at first, it was anything from funny and all you really wanted to do was punch him in his smiling face for having so much joy despite everything, despite the past, despite the bleak future, the bloody, lonely nights.

You remember that he was always everything an assassin was never meant to be-- loud, effusive, passionate, full of smiles and laughter to go along with all that sadness and regret. You look back and remember that Ken has always been a little bit of everything, no matter what he's been through or what he has come to face. You think that after all this time, he is the one who refused to let you lose the memory of what it is to feel something, be it joy or sorrow.

Perhaps that was why you fell in love with him in the first place.

He has always been amazing to you in one way or another. At first you were confounded by the way he could smile- a thousand different smiles for a thousand different occasions- while you yourself simply felt empty most of the time, felt as if you had been cut apart and only fragments of what you once were remained. You couldn't believe that someone who had lost everything could retain all of himself if not his former life, and at first, you were angry at him for proving you wrong. You were angry that he could still be so much when you had suffered similarly, when you in contrast to him were but a shell of the person you once were.

You tried a hundred different times, to find the cracks in that emotive face which was so unafraid of you, the one that pushed and pushed and pushed, slamming through every wall you put up because he believed there was a real life person underneath, when you were certain that what he was looking for had long been killed, killed on the same night that your family had been.

You shoved him away and struck out at him, told him that he was a fool for believing that there was anything below the surface. You tried to convince him that you were exactly as you let him see you, subhuman, unfeeling, cold.

You were amazed when he simply laughed back at you. He smiled and then rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to irritate the living hell out of you.

Day in and day out, despite how cold you were to his offers of friendship and camaraderie, he greeted you in the mornings, engaged you in conversation, was unapologetic with his words and actions when you glared at him, and smiled back no matter how cruel you acted.

Day in and day out he battled back with a fierceness of spirit that showed no signs of retreating because he refused to believe that the brittle, silent surface you showed the world was all there was to you.

He baffled you.

Perhaps that was why you fell so hopelessly in love with him.

He didn't believe a word of your bullshit.

You fought tooth and nail with him to show him that you didn't care, and it got you so angry that before you knew it, all the emotions you thought you were incapable of after that night came flooding out, lashing at him because he infuriated you, confused you, impassioned you, made every single barrier you put up crack because you felt _so much_ when he poked and prodded and smiled at you that it just couldn't stay bottled up.

He made you feel a million things you told yourself you'd never feel again.

Now, you think that maybe that was why you fell so completely in love with him.

It may have started out as teeth gnashing, fist slamming fury between the two of you, but the fact that he simply made you feel all those things again, all those things and more again… looking back, you're pretty sure you know why you fell in love with him.

He's always baffled you, but you remember what it was like when it turned into simple amazement.

It started when the fights left you panting, sweating, energized, when he left you with black eyes and a feeling of exhilaration that swept up all of your thoughts, left you wanting more. It started when he became a challenge instead of an annoyance, a force to be reckoned with instead of someone who just existed as you had, off to the side of real living.

You remember how you began to look for it deliberately, a reason to set him off. You wanted that firecracker temper of his to light up and take to the sky because the passion in his eyes when the two of you were at the center of a self-made tempest was one of the most beautiful things you'd ever seen.

Before long, you realized Ken and his ten million emotions, anger or otherwise, were all in their own ways, fascinating.

You wanted to see more. You couldn't get enough.

He was so many of the things you thought you'd lost, that fiery night years ago when everything you held dear was ripped away. He was all of those things you felt you'd lost, and maybe it was because he gave some of them back to you by proxy that you kept trying to get a closer look. Because when you remembered how it felt whenever you were around him, you were subject to a blaze of feeling that pulled you off your feet and sent you spinning into the heavens.

He breathed life back into you, and before you knew it, you couldn't live without this confounding, annoying, amazing man.

When you finally realized this, you forgot yourself and that ice-cold shell you'd built for yourself, and you found yourself, against your will, looking ever deeper, ever closer. You found that it wasn't just his blazing anger that drew you forward in awe, but that it could also be something as simple as his laughter, loud and unabashed, or his smiles, sweet and naively trusting.

You were so fascinated that you forgot yourself and that emotional isolation you so wanted. And one night, you reached out with a hand instead of a fist and used your mouth for far more delicious things than the exchange of cruel words. And the walls you built up shattered one by one.

Even after that night, when you still tried to fight it, he held on, kept pounding on the gates you tried to lock with that brute force of his, his army of a million and one emotions invading your tower of solitude until the fortifications crumbled to dust. You fought cruelly and ruthlessly, and he fought back with everything he had.

In the end, his forces were superior, and that laughing, smiling, glowing face of his became the new king of your heart.

You learned with time, that there was nothing left for you to do but surrender.

And there you were, unquestionably, irreversibly in love.

How he did it, it still amazes you.

_He_ still amazes you.

He is amazing, because he can make you feel so many things even though you know that you and he are both killers, even though both of you have had everything that should have given meaning to your life ripped away.

He's helped you find something else that gives life meaning, and knowing him, you think that even though the cruel world in which you both live will undoubtedly try to tear him away from you, after seeing how he fights, you know it won't be easy.

You tried to do it yourself, after all, but he defeated you completely.

He makes you believe that there is hope in the end, that after all that poking and prodding and infuriating he's done, after the siege he's laid to your heart, he won't easily let you go because you know it's simply not his way. Everyday he is there, smiling, laughing, awing you to the point that you cannot believe that for all your love of him, he loves you back just as much.

Today, his eyes shine and he laughs and launches himself shamelessly at you even before the last customer is out of the door and Yohji is locking up. His arms wrap around your neck and bemusedly, you find yourself surrendering to the onslaught that he is once again. You are his absolute prisoner, holding him up as he rests his cheek against yours and complains loudly that today was the worst because it was so hot and summer is when the schoolgirls don't actually have school. He wheedles a promise out of you for ice cream later, and you find yourself agreeing even before what's going on completely registers in your mind. This earns a knowing cluck from Yohji and an amused giggle from Omi, and Ken really just doesn't care that the two of you are being laughed at by both of them.

You expect at least a kiss as compensation for your embarrassment, but Ken only complains of the heat again and peels himself off of you before enthusiastically hanging his apron up haphazardly on its hook and bounding up the stairs, calling down that if you don't hurry, he's going to eat all of the ice cream left in the freezer by himself.

You feel slightly horrified when you realize you are watching after his retreating form with a ridiculous little smile on your face, but for some baffling reason, you can't seem to wipe it off.

And you think to yourself that everyday, he amazes you.

You don't know exactly, what he'll do or say next, because there is just so _much_ of him, so many facets that it can't be predicted. He constantly reminds you that humans have so many sides, so many ways of expressing and feeling, that you can never quite know what will happen next.

It leaves you feeling a kind of uncertainty that is thrilling and frightening all at the same time. Once again, you find yourself at a loss.

The only thing you can be absolutely certain of when it comes to Ken is that you're head over heels in love.

**END **


	4. Disgusting

**Title:** Little Things IV- Disgusting  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Theme:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13 (mentions of yaoi)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen  
**Spoilers:** Nope  
**Word Count: **1,935  
**Time:** 2:48 (geezus), minor edits because I'm especially lazy this weekend so there.  
**Summary:** Omi finds the whole situation rather disgusting.  
**Dedication:** Christine and JaB cuz they draw the yaoi goods for me lately. XD  
**A/N:** Okay, I told myself I was going to write Bleach angst, because it's kind of screaming for it lately, but then I got distracted by WK and surprisingly enough, got a few ideas that the majority of will probably never come into being, but at least I got this one out of the way, right? Right? Yeah. Sorry. --;; But it's kind of OOC because I really don't write Omi that much…figured it was worth a shot in either case. Bleh. And yeah, this one's a bit angstier than the others because I'm just in that _mood_ and everything I write lately is kind of falling flat so angst kind of lends itself to that, I figure. I just better not try anything humorous until this strange, listless funk passes. --;;  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

It's really disgusting. 

Though Omi can't really blame them for it because really, they're not doing it on purpose. It isn't an attempt to flaunt anything in anyone's face or to validate their relationship in their own eyes via those of others. He knows Ran and Ken better than to believe they'd ever try something like that.

Rather, it's the fact that they get so swept up in one another and time quickly passes from them being alone to Omi coming back from school or something of the sort, and the privacy they thought they had would be gone without their knowing.

And it isn't like the youngest member of the team has ever walked in on them doing inappropriate things to one another in the group's public living spaces or anything. He is certain Ran and Ken have more respect for the other two living with them than to try anything like that.

So it isn't really a big deal, when he lets himself think about it properly.

But there's just an instinct inside of him that kicks in when he sees it, when he turns a corner and there they are, together. Ran with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face as he looks down at Ken with eyes full of amazed adoration and Ken is looking back up at him with one of those big, guileless grins of his, his laughter and voice unchecked as they murmur whatever it is that is so precious important that they must do it in the middle of a corridor, or right in the kitchen, or on the couch, or in the store, or the training room or…

Omi can't help but feel a little disgusted by it all.

He asks Yohji about it sometimes, when he wants to not be the only one feeling that strange sensation of having looked in on something very intimate and very beautiful that he has no business being a part of.

Yohji laughs at him and ruffles his hair when he asks about it, when he inquires whether the oldest member of Weiss feels that the other two are a little bit disgusting sometimes.

And the older blonde winks and says that they're indeed disgusting, so in love and not bothering to even try and hide it anymore, not since that one forced confrontation when the two of them had had to put the cards they'd been holding tightly against their chests on the table for everyone to see.

It was like a floodgate, Yohji says, with a rueful smile. It was like a floodgate opened and ever since then those two wacky kids were too busy drowning in one another to realize that yeah, they were being a little bit disgusting.

And then the blonde chuckles warmly, a far-off look in his eye that tells Omi he's thinking about someone in the past that made him act just as disgusting, and the younger assassin shakes his head and slips away and inexplicably hopes that one day all people will be able to find that one person that makes them disgusting to everyone else, because if the sparkles in Ran and Ken's eyes are any indication, it is a wonderful place to be.

Even if Omi thinks it's all rather disgusting.

He's home from another grueling day of work at the shop this fine summer day, but before he can even start to ascend the stairs to his room he hears it, and frowning, tells himself that it really can't be helped because their common areas are small and really, he should just be happy for them because he knows almost as well as they do what sort of hellish path it took to bring them this far together.

But even when he tells himself this as he steps through the doorway into the living room, he is inundated by the atmosphere of romantic love the other two seem to bring with them constantly nowadays, and he feels slightly ill.

He makes a small noise in his throat and on hearing it, Ran looks up from the book he was quietly reading aloud to Ken over there on the couch, the brunette enthralled by the older man's voice while Ran indulged his lover in voicing the story even though he knew the athlete was doing it more to listen to him speak than to pay attention to the novel.

They aren't doing anything gratuitous, their shoulders barely brushing as they sit together on the couch, but just like always, Omi feels as if he's walked in on them during a deeply intimate moment.

The little blonde flushes slightly and stammers an apology before quickly heading to the stairs, ignoring the slightly puzzled expressions that follow him from his teammates' gazes as he does.

Omi is a little bit disgusted, though more with himself than them because he knows he is being foolish. They were simply reading together, and Omi, oddly enough, feels as though he walked in on them in the middle of making love and stared at them rudely through the whole thing.

He gets that feeling a lot it seems, and by no fault of theirs, because they were just _reading_ and really, there was nothing there but a sense of innocent desire to be close to someone you love.

The youngest assassin pauses at the top of the stairs and wonders if that isn't the problem after all. It is as if Ran and Ken have both found a breath of new innocence together in their fumbling, blindly devoted affections. It is as if they have been reborn and been granted all the hope and potential that comes with a fresh start despite their being assassins, despite their pasts, despite the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

And they are sharing it like there is plenty to go around.

Maybe that is what makes him feel a little bit disgusted, he thinks. Maybe that is the same reason he finds Yohji watching them unintentionally when they are together, not with any lecherous intentions, but because there is something fascinating about the life they seem to promise themselves as well as their two bereft teammates.

It's like they want everyone to share all the hope and renewal they have found with one another. As if they're unafraid of the possibility that it might run out, that it might be stretched too thin. To give new life to two murderers is one thing.

But to four is something completely different altogether.

And Omi thinks that maybe this is why he's so uncomfortable, because he is worried for them. Their love is just for the two of them, after all, and won't the hope they've found be rationed out too much if the likes of Omi and Yohji try to take a share for themselves?

That strange, vaguely ill sensation he gets when he walks in on the two of them being in love feels like something he should not be privy to, for he hasn't undergone any of the heartache and uncertainty they have to get to where they are now. He hasn't searched for that sort of connection with anyone, not with the fervor they have, and they should be the only ones to enjoy the fruits of their labor, shouldn't they?

Freeloaders like he and Yohji…they shouldn't be allowed to steal any of the joy Ran and Ken experience because it is something they've worked so hard for on their own.

What if Omi's want to hold on, to watch them and believe? Will that make the burden too heavy in the end?

For some reason, he thinks he would have felt better if their love had been locked away behind closed doors, something only they two could experience and enjoy by themselves alone.

Omi doesn't want the hope they have so generously, if unintentionally, given him to weigh them down in the end.

And maybe that's why he feels a little disgusted when he sees them, even doing something as innocent as murmuring to each other their plans for the day or what they're going to eat for dinner.

Because he _shouldn't_ see things like that. It's not any of his business after all. That hope they give to one another is a precious thing isn't it? They should keep as much of it as they can for themselves because they won't know when it could run out, when they could reach the bottom of the barrel and be left with nothing for themselves because they were too careless in doling it out to undeserving parties.

Yet still… the little blonde finds himself always wanting more. He wants to live in the joy they've found, wants to bask in its sunlight and let it take away his own sorrows, let it soothe him as it has soothed them, though he had not worked towards it in any way before.

Omi is a little bit disgusted with himself for wanting to take some of their love as his own, because he knows it doesn't belong to him.

He shakes his head and goes to his room, feeling that in addition to being a killer, he is also a thief.

* * *

Later in the evening there is a knock on his door and peeling himself away from his computer he goes to open it, finding Ken looking back at him from the other side of the portal, expressive features smiling nervously at the younger boy. 

The soccer player runs a hand through his hair and asks Omi to come downstairs and have dinner with the rest of them, because Ran cooked tonight and thus it is guaranteed to be good and not-life threatening.

The brunette chuckles a little bit at that and behind all the laughter Omi can see that effusive joy that has taken hold of his friend and refused to let go, as tenacious as the athlete himself as it shines through, inexplicably drawing Omi with it, out of his room despite feeling that he shouldn't go.

Ken, reading the hesitance in the blonde's actions, puts a warm hand on his shoulder and asks if anything is wrong, because he has been acting strange lately.

Omi, turning large, sad eyes up to the older boy's, tells him no, nothing is wrong as far as he knows. But he admits, very softly, that he is a little bit worried.

When Ken asks him about what, Omi shakes his head so his bangs fall into his eyes and asks the brunette if there really is enough food for all of them tonight.

Puzzled, Ken assures him that there is, and why wouldn't there be? Truly, they've all been busy with their own things lately, but the brunette is certain that eating together is something that they will always plan for no matter how hectic things might become in their lives.

Without a shadow of doubt anywhere on that open face, Ken leads Omi down to Ran's immaculately kept table, assuring him that there is plenty for the four of them and perhaps even more.

Omi eats with them despite his doubts, feasting selfishly on more than just food, taking the warmth and joy that he feels are not his and stuffing it into his eyes and nose and mouth until he is rolling, full on their effusive happiness and hoping that he does not appear as fat as he feels, basking in the glow of their love though it is not his own.

In the back of his mind, he is a little bit disgusted with himself.

**END **


	5. Lost

**Title:** Little Things V- Lost  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Theme/Topic:** Book lines challenge  
**Rating:** PG-13 (shounen-ai-ish)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen vagueness.  
**Spoilers:** Nope  
**Word Count: **907  
**Time:** 43 mins, no edits.  
**Summary:** Schwarz the fallen.  
**Dedication:** Christine- thx for the dinner last night, okaasan!  
**A/N:** First post at tempsmort for the "Book lines" challenge…figures the nearest book was my English 10A Anthology and I opened up to the "Paradise Lost" page. Lucky first line though, it fit with an idea I've had anyway so I thought I'd throw it in with this clump of stories because really, they're not all that related as is and I don't want to make a new story at ;; But yeah, this is an all-dialogue fic, and I've really just been screwing around with narration this entire series, but it's fun to try out new things, right? Sure. Anyway, you're gonna have to forgive me my characterization of Schwarz, I've never written them before so it's kind of experimental on my part. --;; Uh, and the necessary apologies to Milton for screwing around with his words. Yay!  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

"'Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heav'n', was it?"

"Leave them alone, they're far from heaven. And we are far from sovereignty."

"Aw, Nagikins, didn't know you had such a soft spot for the kittens…"

"It's not a soft spot. I simply like to believe I have a shred of human decency left."

"Ahahahaha, such a sweet child, aren't we liebe? But our job was to find the weakness, wasn't it? That would be the big one, with those two, without doubt."

"Who says it's a weakness?"

"Now, don't tell me, little one, that you still believe those sorts of fairytales. Not after everything we've seen."

"Maybe it's not a fairytale."

"Ach, Crawford's right after all, kid. You've far too much heart to be on this side of the fence."

"… why can't we have heart? They're killers too after all, but they manage…"

"It's difficult, you know."

"And how would you?"

"Oh, that hurts, sweeting. I may not be able to love truly, myself, but I can read their minds, yes?"

"Reading a mind and feeling a heart are not on equal grounds."

"Ah, you and your happily-ever-afters, child. Do you want to know what plagues their hearts? Once you hear yourself… their turmoil is unquestionably the weakness Herr Crawford sent us to find, you'll see, how it torments them…"

"I don't want to…"

"Shhh, just listen with me, liebe…"

"_The mission is tonight…I wonder… will it be the last time I see…"_

"_Ran… he seems troubled. I hope that everything works out tonight…"_

"…_Ken… will it really be okay?"_

"_I hate this so much. We forget…"_

"_With him…I forget, but…"_

"…_but then another mission comes along all of a sudden…"_

"…_then I'm forced to remember…the day before a mission…"_

"…_everything comes flooding back just like that…"_

"…_what if something happens…"_

"…_what if I die?"_

"…_will I be able to live if something happens to him?"_

"…_what if he…"_

"…_will he be all right without me?"_

"…_could I live without him?" _

"…_I don't want to…"_

"…_I don't want to…"_

"…_please God…on the possibility that…"_

"…_Oh God… if something happens…"_

"…_let it be me..."_

"…_me…and not him."_

"_Please." _

"…_please."_

"There, you see, little one? It hurts, doesn't it?"

"I…"

"Ach, dry your eyes, we're not the same as them, Nagikins… no tears, not for ourselves, and especially not the enemy, ja?"

"Again, Shuldig."

"Eh? Come again? I don't think I quite understand, sweetheart."

"Again…please… just…just a moment longer…"

"Nagi…"

"Just a moment more…"

"All right, kid, all right. Wipe your eyes, I'll not deny you a few minutes more. But be prepared…it hurts, you more than me, I think. It'll hurt."

"Thank you."

"_I wonder what he's thinking right now…"_

"…_maybe he's thinking the same as me…"_

"…_is he scared too?"_

"_I'm afraid… we're both afraid…"_

"_It could be tonight…"_

"…_if not tonight, the next, the next…"_

"…_every time it will be like this…"_

"…_I warned myself, didn't I?"_

"…_if I didn't love him…"_

"…_it would be easier…"_

"…_there might be less hurt…"_

"…_going into the dark…"_

"…_being a murderer..."_

"_It would be easier…"_

"…_wouldn't it?"_

"…_without a question…it would be easier…"_

"_And yet…"_

"_But…"_

"…_even so…just looking at him right now…"_

"…_even if…"_

"…_if the worst should happen…"_

"…_it's okay, isn't it?"_

"…_it's fine…"_

"…_because…"_

"…_even if it's just for one moment…"_

"…_for a lifetime…"_

"…_or for forever…" _

"…_I love him…"_

"…_because he loves me…"_

"…_it's enough…"_

"…_just one moment with him…"_

"…_it's okay…"_

"…_it's all I need…"_

"…_I've got…"_

"…_no matter what…"_

"…_in the end…"_

"…_I've got…"_

"…_him."_

"…_everything."_

"_Oh God… if something happens tonight…"_

"_God… even if something happens…"_

"…_I'm glad."_

"…_thank you."_

"There now, sweeting, don't cry anymore, yes? It's all right now."

"Is that what we've lost, Shuldig?"

"Lost?"

"You and I… we aren't them, are we?"

"Abyssinian and Siberian?"

"Any of them. We aren't are we? I… do you understand what I'm… I can't…"

"Ah I think so, little one. I think so… 'this is the seat That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom…'"

"…'for that celestial light'…"

"Or something like that, yes?"

"…something like that."

"Ach, haven't I told you to dry your eyes? Unbefitting, as Brad would say. Really, does it hurt so much, little one?"

"Shuldig…is it… is it bad to hope to be like them again one day?"

"For us? Yes, yes it is, liebe. The fallen can't regain heaven, after all. Not after they've rebelled from God. That's the whole moral of the story, isn't it?"

"Was it? I don't remember…"

"Don't dwell, little one. There are other things to concentrate on now, remember? Our mission tonight… why we came at all to watch these kittens play."

"I remember."

"Come now, sweeting, it's time… back to the fiery lake, yes? Herr Crawford will expect us."

"All right."

"Here, wipe your nose. I shouldn't have brought you along, to watch the kitty cats with me, I think. There's nothing quite so painful as dwelling on what you can't have, Nagi. It's best not to think of it anymore, ja?"

"Why are we so different from them, Shuldig?"

"Ah, a loaded question… but I think, if I remember correctly, that between devils and man… man was the only one God sent a savior for, sweeting."

"'As far removed from God and light of Heav'n As from the center thrice to th' utmost pole,' eh?"

"Aa, something like that, little one, something like that."

**END **


	6. Found

**Title:** Little Things VI- Found  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Theme/Topic:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13 (some good old boy on boy mentions. Yeah.)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen  
**Spoilers:** Nope  
**Word Count: **1,357  
**Time:** 38 mins, minor edits.  
**Summary:** Ken discovers something important.  
**Dedication:** Kelly, cuz apparently I've never dedicated anything to her before. Sorry!  
**A/N:** So yeah…I haven't started studying for my finals. Which begin on Mon. I haven't thought about my film school interview tomorrow morning at 10 am. In fact, I've only really been up for about 2 hours now. And I know I'm screwed, but some weird delay factor in my brain is kind of holding off the panic and instead, telling me to go ahead and spend my last hours alive on this earth writing fan fiction instead, which is what I did. And so I bring a quickie fluff chapter to this little series of mine, and then I will either write One Piece, HisagixAyasekawa, RenjixByakuya, or the weird AizenxGinx? rape-porn that JaB is making me go to hell for. Or I could just not write any more and go read yaoi scanslations, it's up in the air really. ;; Did I mentioned I'm screwed academically?  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

Ken finds himself… indelicate. Or something like it.

Not that he's ever wanted to be delicate, or refined, or any of those things that hint at sophistication, because he knows he's far from sophisticated. Half the time he doesn't think he even borders on polite.

And it's not that he wants those things or anything.

But there are some times, like right now for example, when he wishes that he wasn't so rough around the edges.

Or that Ran wasn't so damn aristocratic when it came to certain things.

Because he hates when the other man gives him those vaguely disappointed looks when he does the wrong thing, or says the wrong thing, or forgets which fork goes with which course when they're in one of those fancy restaurants Ran likes to take him to on special occasions like tonight.

He finds himself feeling a little bit inadequate under those long-suffering expressions of his lover's, and before long he gets a little angry, and then he feels petulant and is tempted to eat the whole meal with the same fork all the way through, including dessert, just to spite Ran.

But that's silly, when he thinks about it rationally, because you're not supposed to want to spite the person you love, even though they can be a grade-A, nose-in-the-air snob when it comes down to a select, admittedly small, category of specific things.

And Ken is trying, he really is. But he's never been anywhere near a social strata that requires three forks for one meal or a bowl full of liquid sitting on the table that isn't for drinking.

But he knows Ran likes these things a little bit, because it sort of reminds him of his life before Weiss, wealthy son of a banker that he had been. Ken thinks it's a quiet show of trust of some sort for his lover, an attempt to share with the other man the person he had been back in the time before he became an avenger.

And that's an amazing gesture on Ran's part, the kind that he's really wanted for a long time now, so Ken doesn't sit through dinner clutching one fork throughout their six-month anniversary dinner and being angry about everything like he sort of wants to. Instead he very carefully watches what the other man does while they're eating and copies him and tries very, very hard, to eat slowly and not make a mess and not say anything that will embarrass Ran in front of this crowd of suit-wearing, evening-dress clad, fur-coat having, diamond buying, limousine-driving aristocrats.

Even if it makes him feel horribly inadequate.

Because in the end, it's Ran wanting to share something with Ken from a time before that matters. It's his stoic lover opening up a little bit in his own oddball way and telling Ken that yes, this is how his life had been like once. And then it's also a sign that Ran is doing these sorts things again because he is trying to reclaim a life for himself now, one that goes beyond being a killer or an avenger or heck, even a florist. And through it all, he's trying to take Ken with him.

So Ken can't complain, really, because even though he's uncomfortable in a suit and he still doesn't quite know how to properly knot a tie and he wishes he could smother ketchup all over his fancy 4000 yen steak, this is all for Ran, and in the end, that's why he puts up with all of it in the first place, isn't it?

Even if he's absolutely certain that no matter how expensive a steak is, it'll taste better with ketchup.

But it's not about what his dinner tastes like, at least not really. It's him sitting here through this almost-torture session and doing his best and telling Ran through his actions that yes, he cares so much that he's willing to endure _all_ _this right here_ so that his lover can enjoy it. And that's what's important, really. He finds himself realizing things like this a little bit more with time, and it might just be him maturing or something like that, but he's discovering that Ran puts up with his messy room and his short temper and his ignorance and his snoring and his habit of breaking things for a reason.

It definitely isn't because he likes those things about Ken, if their frequent scuffles over those sorts of things are any indication.

But likewise, Ken is finding that his capacity for patience is increasing as they continue on this crazy, amazing journey of theirs together, and that like Ran, the soccer player puts up with the redhead's OCD tendencies, his sometimes unintentionally cruel way of saying things, his occasional snobbishness, his constant criticism, his anal-retentive attitude, and his ridiculous pet-peeves for a reason.

There's definitely something behind all this madness, and as Ken slowly cuts his steak even though he's starving and would like nothing more than to fork the whole thing and eat it like a giant meat-paddy on a stick, he thinks that it's got to be something big for him to be willing to put up with all of this.

He wouldn't just do these sorts of things for any old reason, after all.

Thoughtful, he eyes Ran carefully through the curtain of his bangs and wonders what all of these things he's thinking about could possibly mean. And then Ran looks up from his wine glass and catches his gaze, those amazing violet eyes looking straight back at him with a warm intensity that makes Ken's stomach flutter nervously with something other than hunger. Or maybe it's just a different kind of hunger.

And then incredibly, Ran smiles back at him. It's just a small, upward quirk of his lips, but that's all it takes to make Ken think that his lover is miraculous, sitting across from him in the warm glow of the candlelight all dressed up and perfect like he is. And the most amazing part of it all is that he's smiling at Ken even though he knows his lover is completely hopeless when it comes to any of these things.

And Ken finds himself smiling back despite his discomfort, can feel his cheeks flushing, his pulse speeding up, his thoughts jumbling, and all with just one look from that beautiful, refined man on the other side of the table.

And it hits him.

He's really in love.

And yeah, maybe he's a little slow in realizing the magnitude of something like that, but it's still important regardless, because with that, he has, without question, found the secret reason behind all of the things that he and Ran both put up with just to be together despite their different backgrounds, despite their separate experiences, or even despite something as simple as their clashing tastes and personalities. That's the secret not-secret in the end, the one big thing that's binding them together in spite of all those various things that would otherwise pull them apart.

And yeah, maybe he's been a little slow in putting words to all of this, but Ken isn't exactly like Ran when it comes to realizing the enormity of some things, and what's really important anyway is that some part of him has known all along that it was there, that it's always been there.

He's found it for sure now though, what's always been there in the first place. He's found it and now there are words to it and thoughts to it and conscious efforts to associate with it.

He's really, hopelessly in love. And Ran... Ran is really, hopelessly in love back. No one would just put up with the kind of things they put up with from each other otherwise. It's not worth it otherwise, plain and simple.

And so Ken eats his steak without ketchup and hopes that as he does, his eyes convey that he expects Ran to make it up to him later.

Because, as Ken has found, when you're this much in love, it's really all about compromise.

**END **


	7. Old

**Title:** Little Things VII- Old  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Universe:** Weiss Kreuz  
**Theme/Topic:** Ran's birthday!  
**Rating:** PG-15 (some good old boy on boy mentions. Yeah.)  
**Pairing:** RanxKen  
**Spoilers:** Minor ones, but just about names and backstory... yeah.  
**Word Count: **1,236  
**Time:** 47 mins (minor edits)  
**Summary:** Ran thinks that things get better with age.  
**Dedication:** Can I dedicate it to Ran for his birthday? That…might be a little lame. So yeah, instead, this is for everyone celebrating Ran's birthday too. XD  
**A/N: **So I tried first person again after a long, long time of NOT. I don't know how much I like it now, but then again, I also don't know how well I got Ran's voice, if I did at all. Ah well, an experiment in the end, I suppose. ;; Let me know what you think about how I did on this form of narration! Anyway, this is my contribution for Ran's birthday this year, since I've never actually done one for him or Ken, which makes me feel like a bad fangirl. I have to post early because I'm leaving for AX though, so here it is.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.**  
Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

I suspect that Yohji worries for us more than he lets on, if I am reading his lewd overtures correctly, if a bit optimistically. It could just be that he likes making the both of us uncomfortable with his shameless talk about sex and relationships and other things like that that make Ken blush rather becomingly across the bridge of his nose and at the very tips of his ears.

It might just be that, because I admit I like seeing that from Ken as well. But I think that Yohji means to do more than that, because he's afraid that the two of us will somehow get fed up with each other. Or worse, complacent.

Yesterday he winked and whispered something into Ken's ear that sent my lover running to the kitchen for water when he choked on his own air. Later in bed, when I asked him about it, Ken only flushed and shook his head and said that we most definitely didn't need to do anything like _that_.

If what Yohji said to Ken the other day is anything like the things he suggested to me last week, then I completely agree with him. It may just be the prude in me or something to that effect, but I can't fathom why Ken and I would ever need to assume the roles of _other_ people when we're having sex.

I'm completely happy knowing that I am me and that Ken is him.

But Yohji always seems intent on keeping some sort of tab on our relationship, like he's worried the fire will burn out and we'll go our separate ways or something like that, and he's always pushing us, giving little hints and winks and suggestive nudges and is very frank in stating his concern when he hasn't caught us making out together in the commons areas of the apartment at least once every week.

Ken, when he thinks about it, says that we should be touched that he's putting this much effort into us, seeing as to how he puts very little effort forward in the way of his own relationships.

I'm of the opinion that he should worry more about his own, if that's the case, because I'm certainly not going to let him in on ours simply because he's put some work into it.

But my lover is very sharp when he wants to be, or perhaps unintentionally, when he says that he thinks Yohji just wants us to be happy and that in the world of Kudou's mind, that happiness is inexorably tied to something like us having a very spontaneous, hot and heavy sex life.

And when I think about it that way, it's probably very true that Yohji's lewd suggestions are only his way of showing he cares. I suspect he doesn't want us to lose any sparks, to get completely used to each other and stop looking at our relationship as something new and invigorating.

Kudou Yohji's way of keeping things from getting old is telling us all of his top-secret techniques, the things he uses to keep the women flocking to him one after another. These are the things that make him constantly alluring, that make him fresh and new every time he smiles at a different woman.

I think he's afraid that Ken and I will grow weary of each other, will be unable to keep interest in each other once we've learned all of each other's secrets. He's afraid that once this relationship becomes old and worn we won't want it anymore, will look for something new and better.

I suppose, all of this is sweet in its own misguided way. I also suppose that Yohji, having lost that one person who he would have wanted to keep forever, is afraid that we will be like he has become, wandering, always in search of something new to replace the old.

I guess I can't blame him, because that is how he lives his life, to a degree. It's what he knows.

He doesn't want us to become like him.

But Yohji, I think, has never been too good at spotting details that might appear meaningless.

Like how Ken clings to that ancient, hole-filled atrocity of a jersey of his, the first he'd ever worn as a professional player. It's hanging up in his closet right now, reverently used and worn while the newer ones, the one we bought last week for instance, is strewn on the floor with very little thought as to why. Yohji doesn't notice that Ken's most favorite sneakers are going on two and a half years old now and he refuses to throw them out because he likes them best, thinks they're the most comfortable shoes that were ever made. Yohji doesn't see that Ken's motorcycle has long ago ceased to be state-of the art, but that he keeps it shined and polished and rides it with wild abandon every weekend even though there are better ones, faster ones out there now.

As for me… I suppose it's more understandable that Yohji doesn't know. He doesn't know that as this relationship with Ken ages, I find myself happier and happier, more content with life than the day before. He doesn't know that I have the receipts from our first dinner out together, right next to the movie stub from that horrible action thriller Ken chose when we went to the movies the first time, hand in hand. And I've still got all of the old post-it notes he's ever written me, even though I used to tell him it was a waste of paper just to write "hi" to me and stick it on the bathroom mirror for those days when I woke up without him because he had the early shift without me.

So really, Yohji has nothing to be afraid of. Ken and I are the kinds of people who love things more as they get older, I think. And I can't fathom a situation in which I would ever be tired of Ken, where I could be too familiar with him, where I could know him so much that it became boring. First of all, he's not that kind of guy. To know him, to know him means understanding his unpredictability. And to love him means understanding that he's the type of guy that will forever be pulling someone like me in.

As for Ken, Ken is the type that holds on to the things that are important to him no matter what, no matter how worn or supposedly ruined they might appear. That's how he got me to fall in love with him in return, after all. He wouldn't let me go, no matter how hard I tried to get him to, no matter how badly torn and weary I was.

So Yohji has nothing to worry about, really. He doesn't have to keep giving us his suggestions, his tips, his secret hints to a successful love life. Because the both of us know that as this relationship ages, as it grows old with love and care and frequent use, the two of us will only love it more.

We'll only love each other more.

Though, admittedly, the thought of tying Ken up is a little bit intriguing.

But… that's another one of those things that Yohji will never know. At least, not from me.

**END**


End file.
